


And You Were Her Hero

by quicksilverdeancas (quicksilvermalec)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (also it's heavily implied that they're reincarnated), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cas can't let go, Castiel being a guardian angel, Happy Ending, IM SO SORRY I LOVE YOU BOTH DONT BE SAD, Other, POV Baby, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15, Reincarnation, but don't worry it's all like years and years ago, enjoy???, neither can Baby, spoiler alert: Sam and Dean are dead, there are no actual ships in this but I tagged them cause I'm thirsty as hell for reads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvermalec/pseuds/quicksilverdeancas
Summary: She’s long since started to rust, to fall apart. Children run around her, lightly brushing the tips of their fingers along her sides, the braver ones, their whole hands. They climb to the top and sit on her roof, shout at each other, screw around, and she greets them fondly and lets them play because that’s what her boys used to do when they were 7 and 11.They're gone, but there are still two who remember. They will always remember.





	And You Were Her Hero

She hasn’t moved in years. She sits there in what she swears used to be a junkyard, full of others like her, but many of them have been moved, scrapped, destroyed – she doesn’t know. She just sits there, and she waits. She’s waiting for any kind of change. She’s waiting for Dean to walk up to her and pull off the cover and say, “c’mon, Baby, let’s go for a drive.” She’s waiting for Sam to click the button and unlock her doors, to shove the key in the ignition, a little too rough the way that he always is. She’s waiting for one day to be different.

She doesn’t move. She’s long since started to rust, to fall apart. Children run around her, lightly brushing the tips of their fingers along her sides, the braver ones, their whole hands. They climb to the top and sit on her roof, shout at each other, screw around, and she greets them fondly and lets them play because that’s what her boys used to do when they were 7 and 11. Her metal shell has lost its shine from one too many rains and the ground beneath her tires is dry and cracked, dry brown grass peeking out from under her.

Nobody really looks at her anymore, she’s just the car that’s been there since before anyone can remember. But there was a time she was alive with the joy of her life, when she traversed the roads of every state in America. There were two boys – they barely qualified as men – who filled her with their own mood swings. She is the only one who remembers, but she is the only one who needs to. The memories cling to her cracked paint and worn-out leather seats. She remembers them laughing, crying, smiling at each other in the front seats. She remembers the fights. She remembers all the times Sam walked away, when it was just her and Dean, and she loved him but it felt _incomplete_. She remembered when Dean disappeared for four months and came back, when Sam was gone for a year, when Dean was gone for a year. She remembered the conversations about why, but she couldn’t recall what was said.

She remembers cruising down the roads with the windows rolled down, she remembers her tires screeching on the asphalt. She remembers feeling free, from the moment Dean ignited her engine to the moment he stepped out of her interior.

Every so often, one specific man visits her. Those are the days that the parents call their children inside, shield them from that which they don’t know. Because every line in his face says that he is older than time, but for forty years he’s never looked a day over thirty. She knows his name, and he knows hers. They never talk, he just sits on the hood and run his palm down her side. Every once in a while, she can never be sure, but she thinks she hears him whisper “thank you for taking care of them.”

Because after all, they may not have had a roof and four walls, but they were never, in fact, homeless.

He is there for a different reason than she - she is there because she cannot leave, and he is there because he has nowhere else to go. So they stay there, alone together, in solidarity, in comforting silence, and they remember. She thinks about the boys who were her purpose, her charge, and he thinks about the boys who saved the world more than a few times, even though that could have mattered less because they saved _him_.

She stays there for almost a hundred years, and then one day, a little girl – couldn’t be older than 13 – playing with her big sister runs past her and she stares at the car. And for one brief, beautiful moment, she doesn’t see the broken-down and rusted piece of junk that sits in front of her. She’s sees her the way she looked in 2014, when two boys rode her into and then out of the Apocalypse. She sees the glare of sun on her roof, her intact windshield, her bright finish. And she grins as her sister jogs over to her.

“Sam,” the taller girl says impatiently, her long brown ponytail swinging. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Just a minute, Dee,” says the girl with the short hair – Sam. “Look at that car. It’s beautiful.” And then she glances up at her sister as she takes her hand, and her sister’s making heart-eyes at the car.

“It’s a shame she’s so old. If we had the keys, I betcha I could fix her up,” Dee offers, smiling. Then someone calls their names, and both of their heads turn. And they run back to the house, grinning at each other, and they still haven’t let go of each other’s hands.

And Baby’s oldest living friend, who hasn’t taken off his trench coat since she was abandoned, is standing next to her, and he smiles. She wishes she had a mouth to smile back with, but she thinks he knows. He disappears with a flash of light, leaving nothing but the faintest outline of his wings burned into the grass, and she feels finally satisfied.

Because they may not be her boys anymore, and they may not be Castiel’s boys anymore, but it doesn’t matter. Because this time, they’re her girls.


End file.
